Playthings
by KatherineLily
Summary: Someone from Dean's past shows up at the Pierpont Inn, working the same case and shocking the heck out of Dean. With Sam passed out drunk as a skunk, Dean is downstairs in the bar sharing a few shots of tequila for old times sake. Anything can happen. One Shot. Dean x OC. Rated M for a reason. You have been warned. Set in S2xEp11 Episode of the same name


**_Playthings_**

**_A Supernatural One Shot_**

_** Disclaimer: I do not own Supernatural, its characters, its story or anything else relating to Supernatural. I just like to play with the characters a little. This is purely for entertainment use.**_

_**This is rated 'M' for a reason, you have been warned.  
**_

It wasn't raining, but the roads were wet and the air was filled with a cold dampness that was proof of the earlier downpour.

An old fashioned wooden sign that read 'Pierpont Inn' was swinging back and forth slightly with the light wind, making a soft squeaking sound as it swung from its rusted hinges. The old mansion behind it was very dreary in the midst of thick fog, barren trees and overcast sky.

It was eerily quiet, save for the slight squeak of the swaying antique sign, but a light roar in the distance marked the arrival of an approaching vehicle.

It was only a few moments before a black '67 Chevy Impala appeared from the road as it drove past the squeaking sign with 'vacancy' attached below, before it came to a loud idling stop in front of the dying hotel.

When the car was finally silent, the doors opened and two men stepped out and onto the gravel.

From the drivers side, was Dean Winchester.

"Dude, this is sweet!" Dean said in awe as he admired the gloomy mansion. "We never get to work jobs like this."

"Like what?" Sam inquired curiously as he pulled a camouflage backpack over his shoulder.

"Old school haunted houses, you know?" Dean answered as they closed the car doors and looked upon the house. "Fog, secret passageways, sissy British accents." He continued as they walked by the house toward the front steps "Might even run into Fred and Daphne while we're inside." Dean suspired, closing his eyes briefly. Then with a slight chuckle he added, "Daphne, love her."

As they started to climb the front steps, Sam halted curiously in front of a large black pottery urn next to the entrance. "Hey, wait a sec." Sam said as he inspected the urn a bit closer.

Dean stopped, turning around to see what grabbed his brother's attention. "I'm not so sure 'haunted' is the problem."

Dean glanced at the urn in front of Sam curiously. "What do you mean?" He asked, trying to see what Sam was looking at. For all he could tell it was just an old, weathered urn.

"You see this pattern here?" Sam pointed at a small carving, barely noticeable in the aged clay. It was a black X, with five red circles, one in the middle and one at the end of each line.

"That's a quincunx. It's a five-spot." Sam explained. "Five-spot?" Dean repeated, staring at the carving.

"Yeah."

"That's used for Hoodoo spell work?"

"Right." Sam confirmed "You fill this thing with blood weed, you got a powerful charm."

Dean started to scan the surroundings. "Yeah, I don't see any blood weed." He said as he surveyed the house. "Don't you think this place is a little too...white meat for Hoodoo?"

Sam shrugged, his eyes still on the curious urn before he said "Maybe," and they continued into the main lobby.

They looked around, observing the cozy grandeur and silent interior of the place before they reached the front desk when a woman entered the room.

The woman looked to be in her early to mid-thirties, with a kind face as she smiled before speaking politely to the two of them. "May I help you?"

"Hi," Dean answered the woman as Sam continued to glance about the main lobby. "Yeah, I'd like a room for a couple of nights."

Just as Sam began to join Dean at the front desk, a little girl ran in from outside and darted right in front of Sam's legs. He halted just in time for the girl to run past him giggling before she scrambled up the stairs.

"Hey!" The woman shouted after the little girl before she apologized bashfully. "Sorry about that."

"No problem." Sam said, waving it off as the woman turned her attention back on Dean. "Well, congratulations, you could be some of our final guests."

"Well that sounds vaguely ominous." Dean muttered, glancing at Sam.

"No, I'm sorry," The woman explained, "I mean, we're closing at the end of the month." Suddenly she changed the subject. "Let me guess, you guys are here antiquing?"

Dean smirked as Sam nodded, deciding to play along with the little ruse. "How'd you know?"

"You just look the type. So...a king-sized bed?" Dean was lost for words but luckily Sam quickly jumped in. "No. Two singles. We're just brothers." Sam clarified. "Yeah." Dean agreed.

"Oh!" The woman exclaimed as she blushed, embarrassed by her wrong assumption as she quickly apologized. "I'm so sorry."

"What do you mean 'we look the type?" Dean asked, his pride a little wounded, but before she could answer, Sam stepped forward and placed his credit card on the front desk and broke the awkward moment.

"You know, um, speaking of antiques...you have a really interesting urn on the front porch. Where'd you get that?" He inquired.

"I have no idea, its been there forever." She said as she examined the credit card before handing it back to them. "Here you are Mr. Mahoggoff."

She turned around to the boxes full of keys, "You'll be staying in Room 237, Sherwin will be here in a moment to help you settle in." She handed Dean the key.

"Okay, thank you." Dean said, smiling as politely as he could muster before turning around and stopping dead in his tracks.

He was incredibly shocked and completely bewildered as he stared at the person standing casually by the stairs with her arms crossed.

Her dark hair was down and in smoldering waves about her face as it settled just over her shoulders, which were all but bare, her hair concealing the thin straps of her black tank top.

His eyes immediately gazed over her blue jeans, taking in the way they hugged the curves of her hips before her voice caught his attention and he was staring into the golden brown hues of her eyes.

"Hello Dean." She said as her lips turned up into a smirk.

Dean was lost for words as Sam stood idly by his side, trying to wrap his head around what was going on before him.

"Calleigh...w-what...what are you doing here?" Dean managed to ask as he tried to keep himself composed and form words but it was proving to be a more difficult task than he realized.

The girl before him shrugged as she answered, "I was in the area...antiquing."

"Antiquing," Dean scoffed, "Right...What are you doing here?" He repeated, his tone was now serious.

"I could ask you the same thing." She said back with a sardonic smile.

"I'm sorry, am I missing something here?" Sam interrupted, a bit confused as he tried to figure out what was going on.

Calleigh's eyes left Dean as she turned her attention to Sam and her demeanor seemed to change almost instantaneously, her smile becoming more genuine and warm.

"Well hey, Sam, long time no see."

"What are you doing here, Calleigh?" Dean interrupted, repeating his question once again, his anger now apparent as his eyes awaited an explanation.

Calleigh narrowed her eyes in Dean's direction, about to retort before Sam chided "Dean!" appalled at Dean's suddenly very rude behavior.

"Yeah, Dean. Where are your manners?" Calleigh ridiculed, which only seemed to piss Dean off more.

"Wait a minute," Sam suddenly exclaimed "_Calleigh?_ Calleigh Evans?! My god, its been years, I haven't seen you since-."

Dean brought his hands together with a loud POP as he quickly interrupted, "You went to Stanford, yeah yeah yeah, this isn't a damn reunion, Sammy." He said rudely as he turned back to Calleigh before continuing. "But speaking of higher educations, what the hell are you doing here, you're supposed to be in-."

"What, med school? Yeah, that didn't really work out." She muttered caustically.

"Go home." Dean barked.

Calleigh scoffed, her eyes raised in disbelief before they shot daggers at Dean as she snapped. "Screw you, Dean, you don't get to patronize me. I was here first, this is my case. If anyone should be leaving, its _you_."

"Oh, is that right,_ your_ case?" Dean fired back before Sam intervened, "Alright, everyone just calm down!" He said, stepping in between them for emphasis. He was a bit stunned at how quickly the atmosphere seemed to heat up as he turned towards Dean, who was still glaring at Calleigh.

"Dean, dude, she _was_ here first. Which means, technically, this _is_ her case..and you can't force her to leave."

"Oh really?" Dean said with a raised eyebrow, his gaze still on Calleigh.

"Yeah, I'd like to see you try." Calleigh bit back.

"No one is doing _anything_. Jeez, man, relax." Sam said to Dean, trying to disperse some of the tension in the air. It was, however, ultimately broken when a balding man in his late 60s shuffled into the room.

He was wearing a black blazer with the Pierpont Inn logo on the left side as he looked Sam and Dean up and down.

"Let me guess, antiquers?" He asked with a smile, having absolutely no idea what had just taken place.

The second Dean's eyes broke away from hers, Calleigh took that moment to turn and hastily making her way up the stairs, her aggravation apparent with every echoing thud on the old wooden steps.

Dean glanced up at Calleigh's retreating form before turning back to the bellman, who had taken it upon himself to grab Dean's duffel bag by the shoulder strap and began dragging it up the stairs, each step making a loud 'thunk'.

"I could give you a hand with that bag." Dean mentioned as they followed Sherwin up the stairs. Dean heard a door somewhere ahead shut loudly and he knew it must have been Calleigh's.

Calleigh...he still felt the wave of anger that had rushed through him when she had told him this was _her_ case.

What was she doing here in the first place?! She was supposed to be in med school, trying to be a _doctor_ for Christ sake, and yet she was here _hunting_ of all things!

"So the hotel is closing up?" Sam asked, putting his head back into the case.

_That's right, concentrate on the case._

"Yep, Miss Susan tried to make a go of it. But the guests don't come like they used to." He answered as he led them down the hallway. Dean glanced around, looking for anything of suspicion but all he could make of the place were old decorations and peeling wallpaper. Still, he kept an eye out for more of those Hoodoo things.

"Still, its a damn shame." Sherwin continued.

"Oh yeah?" Sam inquired.

"It may not look it anymore, but this place was a palace. Two different vice-presidents laid their heads on our pillows. My parents worked here. I practically grew up here. Gonna miss it." He said somberly before reaching a door at the end of the hall. "Here's your room." He unlocked the old wooden door with a twist of the key. For a moment there Dean expected the doorknob to twist right off, as old as it had looked, but it turned with ease, emitting only a light squeak as Sherwin revealed their room.

Sam was the first to glance inside as he took the key with a polite "Thanks," before Sherwin transferred the heavy duffel bag to Dean.

He turned to close the door behind him only to find the old man still standing there, his arm extended with his hand open expectantly for his tip.

"You're not gonna cheap out on me, are you, boy?"

_Son of a-_

He rolled his eyes and dug for his wallet, somewhat annoyed by the peremptory old man.

Once they were alone in the room, Sam was the one that spoke first.  
"Small world isn't it?"

"What is?" Dean asked, glancing around room. The decorations were extremely dated and just as tasteless, with an old Victorian wedding dress adorning a wall.

Sam snorted. "You know what, _Calleigh_."

Dean forced out a scoff. "Oh, that."

"Yeah, that." Sam said, amused. "Its been what, almost five years?"

"Something like that." Dean dismissed quickly.

Sam gave Dean a long look, who started to concentrate really hard on taking in the strangely decorated room. He knew this was all he was going to get out of Dean on this particular subject.

He ended the 'Calleigh' conversation with an "Okay then..." and dug out some of the notes he had on the current case.

"Why the hell would anyone stay here?" Dean muttered as Sam looked up from his notes. "I'm amazed they kept in business this long."

"All right. Victim number one: Joan Edison, forty three years old, a realtor handling the sale of the hotel; and victim number two was Larry Williams, moving some stuff out to Goodwill."

And it was back to work like usual, which was all Dean needed to help take his mind off a certain other guest of the Pierpont Inn. He needed his head in the case, everything else can be dealt with later.

After an hour or so of brainstorming for leads and not any closer to an answer, they decided set out for more clues.

Sam noticed a vase on a nearby end-table in the hallway and examined it curiously. "Hey." He said, pulling Dean away from grimacing at another old dress tacked to the wall.

"Look at that. More Hoodoo."

_Well, no such thing as coincidences._

Then, something caught Dean's eye.

A door down the hall that was slightly cracked.

Curiosity getting the better of him, he approached the door and slowly pushed the door open. "Dean!" Sam hissed.

"It was open." Dean argued, quietly entering the room and looking around.

It was, however, just another bedroom.

"Dean!" Sam repeated behind him. "Dean, this is someone's room, lets get out of here-." Before Dean could turn around, there was a sudden creak as the door to the bathroom swung open.

And there stood Calleigh, fresh out of the shower and clad in only a skimpy white towel.

"DEAN!" She shrieked when she noticed someone else in the room and hugged the towel firmly to her body. "What the hell?!"

Dean was lost for words, unable to tear his eyes away from her.

"Whoa!" Sam exclaimed. "Calleigh! Oh, s-sor- wrong-..." Sam fumbled with words as he bolted out of the room.

"Yeah, wrong...room." Dean mumbled before finally breaking his eyes away from her and following Sam, the image now permanently seared into his brain.

Which was the last thing he needed when working a case.

A few hours later, all Dean could think about was Calleigh. She had been strangely absent after their last encounter and he still could not concentrate on the case.

_Come on, concentrate on the case. Concentrate on the case!_

Someone else was dead and they weren't any closer to a lead, and to make matters worse, he found Sam in a drunken stupor.

_Son of a-_

That was the final straw. He needed a drink, badly. The case could wait until the morning.

However, fate wasn't being too kind to him today.

There, sitting at the bar, alone, was Calleigh.

_Oh come on! Really?! _He thought with a quiet scoff.

At first he thought about turning around. He really didn't want to have to deal with the whole Calleigh thing, not right now while they were working a case. _She_ was the reason he was having trouble concentrating in the first place.

But, he figured since they were at a dead end with the case anyway, it wouldn't hurt to ask what she knew. _She is, after all, a hunter now_. He thought bitterly.

"Couldn't sleep?" Calleigh jumped at the sound of Dean's voice. She'd been alone in the room with only a bottle of tequila to keep her company so hearing someone else in the room with her startled her a bit.

"No, not really." She said as she turned back to her drink, trying to keep her heart in check. Dean had that effect on her.

She shivered a bit when she felt him next to her, taking a seat.

"May I?" He asked.

"Yeah, go ahead." She said as she filled another shot glass before her and set it in front of him.

He threw it back quickly.

"So, what do you know about this case?" He asked. His voice was even and his eyes were on the glass in front of him.

Calleigh scoffed. Dean hadn't even been in the room for thirty seconds and already he was starting to irritate her. "What,_ now_ you want to work with me?"

"Could you just answer the question." Dean said quickly, his eyes gazing on her, it was clear he was disappointed in her.

_Well he can just get over it,_ Calleigh thought before she answered, somewhat bitingly. "Not much." She took a deep breath before she ended up picking a fight she really didn't have the patience for right now. "I think there is a bit of hoodoo involved, but I wasn't sure how until a few minutes ago."

"You got a lead?" Dean asked as she reached for the bottle.

"Something like that." She poured the golden liquid into her glass up to the rim before kicking it back. She winced at the burn before continuing, the liquor calming her nerves greatly.

"Turns out the owner's nanny was Creole, she wore a hoodoo amulet."  
"You figure she might have taught her?"

Calleigh shrugged. "Who knows, but the woman is hidden away somewhere upstairs. A stroke, apparently."

"Sounds convenient." Dean mumbled.

Calleigh muttered. "My thoughts exactly."

"Well look at you, just a little natural hunter." Dean's voice was laced with sarcasm and it was enough to grate on her nerves. Anymore of this and she'd have a headache for sure.

"Yeah, _Dean_, I'm a hunter, okay? Is it that much of a surprise?"  
"No." Dean chuckled humorlessly. "Surprised is when you were supposed to be in med school, only I find you here, working a case and unless you got a stethoscope on your somewhere, I'm pretty damn sure you ain't a doctor."

It was silent as Dean threw back another drink. The bottle was now half empty and he knew if the evening kept going the way it did, it wouldn't last.

He looked back over to his left and there she was, as beautiful as when he left her all those years ago. He always said it was the biggest damn mistake he ever made, but damn if it wasn't for her own good.

She was too good, too pure for this life.

He turned back to the glass in front of him before Calleigh began to break the awkward silence.

"You know, I did try...Dean." She finally said, her eyes trained on him as his gaze slowly drifted up towards her face.

And there it was, the one thing that has ever melted his resolve completely, the one thing that could make his anger just fade away.

That look she was giving him right now.

It was a moment where her facade had slipped and he could see past the walls around her.

What he saw in her eyes was a mixture of messages. Sadness. Longing. Loss.

Just in that one moment, he could see it all. And then it was gone. Shaken away in less than a second, her mask was back up and the walls that surrounded her were stronger than ever. He should know, he was a master at it.

Calleigh shrugged and continued with a sardonic laugh. "But, um...what can I say? Like Mother like Daughter, right? Like Father like Son."

Dean rolled his eyes but kept his mouth shut as he poured himself another shot, trying to keep himself in check and not retort something that would only piss her off.

He knew only too well how hot headed she could be, something that was both extremely attractive albeit irritating.

"How long have you...?" He trailed off as he stared at the golden liquid before him. He really wanted to know the answer, but at the same time, he didn't. She had a choice, a chance for another life, a _better _life but she just threw it away like yesterday's trash.

She was silent, but Dean could feel her eyes on him as he waited for an answer.

She grabbed the bottle, pouring herself another drink before throwing it back.

"Since you left." She answered quietly.

Dean stilled, a strong wave of guilt and memories flowing through him as he quickly threw back the shot he still had while Calleigh continued.

"I actually tried to follow you," She explained, "but you met someone and I thought, well hey, you moved on, I can too right?"

Dean poured himself another shot, barely even feeling the last one.

He knew she must have been referring to Cassie. What he had with her was nothing compared to what he had for the girl sitting next to him.

_Not even in the same friggin ballpark_, he mentally muttered.

"So, um...how's Sam?" He nearly sighed in relief when she changed the subject. Keeping his eyes on the counter, he quickly replied "Sammy's fine."

"I heard, you know, about Jessica." Calleigh said somberly as her eyes fell to the floor briefly before looking back up at Dean "and your Dad. I'm so sorry."

Dean nearly cursed when his eyes rested on hers.

The warm intensity of her golden hued eyes had always had a way of trapping him, _much like amber and those stupid bugs a billion years ago, _he thought.

Dean pried his eyes away before he ended up revealing just how much those eyes affected him.

He began pouring himself another, much needed, drink. He raised an eyebrow, as to offer her some. She nodded and he began pouring her a shot as he spoke. "Its part of the life, he knew the risks of the job, knew what he was getting himself into."

Calleigh pondered his words for a moment before throwing her drink back quickly before she spoke "So do I, Dean." She said softly as she quickly grabbed the bottle from Dean and began pouring herself another.

Dean couldn't help but watch, impressed, as she threw it back. His eyes were trained on the way her eyes closed when the liquor touched her lips, the gentle hum she made as it made its way down her throat.

It was starting to unsettle him, the way his jeans suddenly seemed to be too small.

"Well, your drinking tolerance has certainly improved." Dean muttered with a roll of his eyes as he took a deep breath.

Calleigh tilted her head in confusion. "What do you mean by that?"

Dean raised an eyebrow, "Seriously Calleigh? It used to be a fact that you'd be on your ass with only a few beers, now look at you, hitting the hard stuff like a pro." Calleigh's lip curved up in a smile as she gaped.

"That never happened." Calleigh defended with a huff.

Dean snorted, a smirk curving on his lips, "I beg to differ."

Calleigh chuckled as she shook her head. "You're making that up."

"If you say so." He shot back with a shrug.

The effects of the alcohol were definitely starting to break the strange tension in the air, and bringing with it a new kind of tension that Dean was trying so hard to ignore.

"Whatever." Calleigh said with a huff as she poured herself another drink, throwing back the tequila as if to prove some kind of a point.

Dean took in the slight tinge of pink in her cheeks, that and the the fact her eyes seemed slightly glossy, making those exquisite golden pools of amber just that much more fascinating.

It was those eyes he had dreamt of nearly every night, the very same ones he'd wish were looking back at him during all those meaningless one night stands these last few years.

It was those same topaz orbs that made him realize fighting her choice on this life was pointless.

I mean, did she ever really have a choice to begin with?

She was brought into this just like him and he had been too stubborn to admit that to himself.

He had wanted so badly for her to go on to live the apple pie life because it was the life he would never be able to choose for himself.

_With her,_ a thought echoed somewhere within him.

And then there she was, sitting there, staring at the bottle of tequila in front of her, lost in thought.

He recalled what she said moments before. She thought he moved on; forgotten about her, but she had never been more wrong.

Suddenly he found that his thoughts and his mouth no longer had a filter as he ended up blurting out the absolute truth that had been whirling around in his head. "I didn't forget about you, Calleigh, in case you were wondering." He said.

She reacted instantly, breaking away from her thoughts almost in shock as she turned her head towards him, her eyes slightly wider than usual as she took in his words.

He had no idea what compelled him to say that, though the alcohol held some suspicion, or the combination of that and the strong feelings he had towards her. He glanced at her briefly as he made his hands busy, pouring him another shot of tequila, trying carefully to gauge her reaction.

He wasn't sure what he expected, though it certainly wasn't Calleigh's lips turning up into a wicked smirk.

"Well, I like to think I wasn't _that _forgettable." She said with a slight giggle, a laugh escaping his own lips as he realized just how much the alcohol was starting to affect her too.

"_Wow_," She said with a wince, as if reading his own mind, before she began laughing awkwardly. "I'm sorry, that was, wow, I have absolutely no idea where _that_ came from." She said with a shake of her head. "I think I'm just going to call it a night."

Dean wasn't sure if he should feel disappointed or relieved.

The buried feelings he still had for this girl had been threatening to resurface, but instead they had taken a sharp detour straight to his pants.

Dean idly tapped his fingers on the counter as he mumbled an agreement. "Yeah," _Probably a good idea, anyway._

He turned to face her, his intention to wish her a good night, but instead he'd been interrupted and completely astonished as she suddenly leaned towards him.

Her arms found their way around his neck as her hands laced themselves behind his head and with just a slight pull, his lips were against hers.

He closed his eyes, savoring the taste of the rich gold liquid that still laced her lips, masking a much more potent taste he had only been able to describe as pure Calleigh.

The liquor running through his veins was fueling his need to deepen the kiss and take in more of her as all self control and rationality threatened to leave him.

But just before he could take over the kiss, there was a sudden pang of loss as her lips left his.

Her lips hovered just inches from his as she breathed, her breath fanning over him, almost as intoxicating as her taste. It was enough to make him lean in for more, but to his dismay, she hopped off the stool and retreated.

He sat shell shocked in his seat. His pants, he realized, had become almost unbearably tight as the desire he felt earlier was still thrumming through his veins as he tried to stare at the counter in front of him and regain some self control.

The sound of her voice made him turn around to find her lingering at the doorway.

"You know," She trailed off as she smiled at him, her lips curving into a slight smile as she bit the bottom part of her lip lightly. "After what, five years, its a little strange that somehow we ended up here at the same time, on the same case. Who'd have thought, right?" Then she turned and walked out of the room as his eyes couldn't help but zero in on her retreating form.

He turned back to the counter and exhaled sharply, shifting his pants a little as they were now becoming a bit unbearable, her words resounding in his mind.

_Yeah, who'd have thought. Someone up there sure has a twisted sense of humor. _He thought bitterly.

There was no denying it though. He _missed_ her. He missed her laugh and her smile, the way she had felt in his arms.

The red blooded man in him was pulsing with a dire need to run after her, to relearn every single inch of her body while she writhed beneath him, to once again hear her soft moans echo in his ears.

The other, the much weaker part of him at the moment, was trying to rationalize reasons why he _shouldn't._

Number one, most importantly, did he really need to open that book again? There was too much history, too many feelings involved. Did he really want to risk putting her through that again? Putting himself through that again? He didn't just break _her_ heart back then.

_Well, whats stopping you now? She's in the life now and there wasn't a damn thing you could have done to stop her, you already left her, see how well that worked out, Genius?_

Okay, so Number One is out but there were still plenty of other reasons why following her upstairs was a bad idea.

They were on a case, a man had just died, and Sam was on a self pity bender, and damn it to hell, Dean thought, _speaking of Sam, you are starting to think way too much like that younger brother of yours_!

That was just about all the rationalization he needed to justify throwing back one more shot before striding out of the room.

He remembered her room number well, _like you could forget_, not after that full glimpse of her he had earlier today.

When he got to her door, he realized it was left open a crack.

He pushed the door open slowly, the old wood creaking on its hinges. He found Calleigh bent over with her foot on the bed, halting from pulling a boot off to stare up at him, her eyes widened in surprise.

Dean could have sworn there was a slight twinkle in those golden brown eyes. Once again, he found himself wondering how the hell could those eyes be human, they were like gold glinting up at him, taunting him, teasing him.

"Dean?"She asked, putting on a curious facade, but there was no mistaking that excited glint in her eye, or the way her breath seemed to hitch subtly in her voice as she stared at him. "Did you need something?" Calleigh finished pulling her boot free while she awaited an answer.

He swallowed thickly. He had no answer to give, in fact, he couldn't think of a damn thing to say. All he could do was stand there, mesmerized by those damn eyes, those eyes that knew exactly why he was here.

_Damn it, _he thought, _those Goddamned eyes are gonna to be the end of me._

And without so much as a word, Dean closed the distance between them in one determined stride, his arm encircling her waist as he pulled her flush against him.

Her eyes were wild as they searched his, her heart pounding, her breathing accelerating as he felt her body shiver with excitement. He snaked a hand around her neck, tangling within the rich chocolate waves of her hair and pressed his lips firmly to hers.

Dean trembled slightly at the warm tingling sensation her lips made with his as she hummed lightly, her eyes closing at the contact.

He could feel her heart beating against his, her breathing just as uneven.

The feeling of her lips pressing back ignited him to act, his tongue involuntarily exploring her lips, taking her in. He immediately thought of that gold flavor of tequila she had just moments ago, mingled in with the sweetness of her taste that was more intoxicating and more potent than anything else he'd ever imagine.

He plunged past her lips, his tongue mingling with hers, drowning in the intoxication of her taste.

_God, he had missed this._

The kiss became heated quickly as Dean dove hungrily into her mouth, unable to get enough of her sweet taste as her tongue mingled with his. Calleigh's hands wove behind his neck, pressing herself closer to him as she nipped at his bottom lip.

Dean hissed as the pain pleasure coursed through him and kissed her deeper, pushing himself harder, more firmly against her, his jeans unbearably tight between them.

Calleigh's knees hit the edge of the bed. As she lost her balance, she let herself fall back, bringing Dean along with her.

His hands wove in between them, finding the hem of her shirt. He pulled, breaking the kiss only when he pulled it free over her head and tossing over his shoulder.

Calleigh stared up at him, those golden eyes now resembling fire as they looked up at him with raw desire, her chest rising and falling with heavy breaths.

She wove her hands along his sides, taking in the the rigid feel of his abdomen beneath them before she began to lift his shirt.

Dean halted her movement with his hands and with a swift pull, he gripped his shirt and pulled it free before tossing it on the floor along with hers. He leaned down, unable to resist exploring the curvature of her neck. His lips trailing rough kisses down her collar. Hands gliding up her sides, exploring her soft bare flesh beneath him, feeling the smoothness of her skin before tracing the outline of her bra lightly.

Calleigh let out a hum of delight as he left heated kisses against her neck, his hand sliding underneath the thin fabric of her bra.

As he ghosted a finger across the hardened peak, Calleigh moaned, her hands fisting into his hair, tugging as she arched her back against the bed, pressing herself against him.

Dean hissed in response, loving the sensation of her fingers through his hair.

He grazed his teeth along the sensitive flesh of her neck, earning little noises from her lips as he continued to toy with the bud beneath his fingers.

Calleigh lifted her leg and wrapped it about him, bringing her hips up to meet his. Dean grunted at the delicious friction the movement aroused between them, bringing gasps from Calleigh's lips. He was hardly able to stand the confines of his jeans for much longer.

His hand slid out from underneath her bra, moving downwards until he lightly traced the spot between her legs on the outside of her jeans. Letting out a slight cry, Calleigh pushed her hips up to meet his hand, but he kept his touches light and teasing as he brought in the flesh from her neck through his teeth. Even through her jeans he could feel the heat beneath his touch.

She squirmed beneath him, bringing Dean to the amusing conclusion that she too was aching to be released from the confines of her jeans.

Dean's lips traced along her neck back to her lips, kissing her deeply as his hand moved away from the center of her jeans to the front. After skillfully releasing the button on her jeans, he gripped her sides and began to tug, underwear and all, breaking the kiss so he can maneuver them free from her legs.

Those too joined the rest of the discarded clothing before he wriggled out of his own, finally freeing himself from its constricting prison.

Calleigh let out a shuddering breath as he pulled her legs around him, placing himself between the center of her legs.

He brought his hand back down between them, his fingers grazing her wet folds lightly.

Her eyes closed as her head fell backwards, her hips lifting up as she tried to meet his hand, but he kept his touch light, soft and teasing.

"Dean! Please!" She whimpered, pleading, her breathing rough and heavy with need as she lay beneath him.

_Screw it, _he muttered to himself as he aligned himself at her center. He'd drank too much to have this kind of patience, not when she is naked, begging, and ready beneath him.

He curved his hips towards her in a fluid motion, sheathing himself fully within her wet folds in one hard stroke.

Calleigh cried out loud as Dean moaned, pressing his forehead against hers as he stilled, relishing at the feeling of being buried inside of her once again.

Calleigh moved her hips, causing him to groan in bliss at the sensation as he began to move, pulling out slowly until just the head remained before slamming himself back into her heated core.

"Oh God, Dean!" Calleigh moaned in response as he slowly pulled out again, only to ram back into her, earning little whimpers from her lips as her nails raked across his back.

He winced at the sting he felt on his back, but it was nothing compared to the pleasure he felt being sheathed within her.

He set a steady rhythm, slowly increasing his pace with each deep thrust.

Every time his hips clashed with hers, she gripped his shoulders just that much tighter, pushing him to thrust that much harder.

He could feel her walls beginning to tighten around him, her breaths heavy and uneven as she writhed beneath him. He pistoned himself faster, deeper, his lips stifling her cries with a deep penetrating kiss as he drove into her, the old mattress creaking with his every thrust.

He began to feel a tightening coil within his abdomen, winding tighter and tighter, threatening to spring forth at any moment.

And then, in one explosive wave, she leaned her head back with a loud cry, her walls clenching around him tightly as she thrust her hips to his. He grunted loudly as he rode the wave of her undoing. The spring within him had wound itself tighter until, with a savage growl, the coil snapped as his own end rushed forward and exploded within her with the last few sharp thrusts.

Utterly spent, he buried his head into the pillow next to her.

He could feel her trying to catch her breath beneath him, her heart beating as wildly as his.

He collapsed on his side facing her, his lips curving into a smile as he studied her face.

Her eyes were closed, a content smile resting on her lips as she breathed.

He traced her cheeks lightly with his fingertips until she brought her hand up and embraced his. Her eyes finally opening as she turned to face him.

He drank in the sight of the melted honey in her eyes, the way that her smile made the gold tones practically glow. He never wanted it to go away, because in her eyes he could see it...She still loved him.

He couldn't help the growing tightness in his chest. He knew how much he had hurt her five years ago, God knows he was full of regrets, but leaving her was no doubt the biggest mistake he'd ever made in his life.

It had nearly killed him once, the painful constricting of his chest as he turned away. It was wrong, but he really thought he was doing the right thing.

She _shouldn't_ be a hunter. She _shouldn't_ be subjected to the horrors that surrounded his life.

She _deserved_ a normal life.

He'd been an idiot though. He should have realized he couldn't protect her from something that had already been pushed into her life, something she had _chosen_ to embrace.

And he'd be damned if he let her get away again.

* * *

**A/N: Hello! Sorry it took so long with a new posting! Spelllesswonder29 and I have been challenging each other to write Supernatural One Shot Smut in effort to support our favorite Winchesters and increase the number of Supernatural stories on this website. This is the first smut I've ever posted so please, review and tell me what you think. **


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